


Never Let Me Go

by larazhivago



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Broken Engagement, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hawkecest (Dragon Age), Mage Hawke (Dragon Age), Not Anti-Mage, Past Sebastian/Hawke, Romance, Sibling Incest, Sided with Templars, Templar Carver Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:56:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28839756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larazhivago/pseuds/larazhivago
Summary: Marian and Carver reconcile their relationship as the dust settles in Kirkwall, but are they still only brother and sister?
Relationships: Carver Hawke/Female Hawke
Kudos: 5





	Never Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> Bingewatching "The Borgias" reminded me of my old crush on Carver, and seeing as how I'm supposed to touch up on English for secondary school, I decided to get this out of my system. This contains romance between two adult siblings (Mage!Marian and Templar!Carver). DON'T READ if that's NOT what you're looking for! This fic takes place directly after the annulment of the Kirkwall Circle. Only a few other characters will be mentioned by name besides Carver and Marian. 
> 
> This isn't smut, but the controversial subject matter is intended for adult readers only.
> 
> Also, I recently watched Flowers In The Attic (2014). Holy f*ck, I'm inspired, to say the least.

Smoke and ash hung over the Waking Sea and the pale stone city above as the sky awoke from its slumber. The denizens of Kirkwall breathed a welcome sigh now that the night of blood and fire was over. The Gallows island stood ghostly silent as Marian glanced over her shoulder from the docks on the far side of the bay. Everything was quiet as a grave, save for whispers of the templars, and the death rattles of their mortally wounded.

"I should see if my estate is still standing," Marian uttered, taking her leave of them.

"I should escort you," a familiar voice added. She looked back at her estranged brother, tall and grim, with his silver armor scorched by magic, smoldering still. Sky-blue eyes gleamed from beneath the winged helm, and Marian nodded, permitting his company. Perhaps she no longer had a choice, but better that the templar was her brother, rather than a stranger. In truth, Carver had become both. 

They did not speak on the journey up, each consumed by what they witnessed during the night. When they finally reached the distinct dwarven architecture of Hightown, both finally dared look up to where the Chantry had been only the night before. Only grey sky remained now, hollow, with nothing but piles of rubble at the base - a smoking mass grave for hundreds of souls, including the Grand Cleric and Marian's former intended, Sebastian Vael. A dozen levelled buildings were cast aside by the blast, with pieces of stone and smashed statuary strewn across the streets. The Hawke estate suffered many broken windows and blows from the explosion, but stood intact. 

Her hands began to shake at the devastation. _'Sebastian, I'm sorry... I'm so sorry you were right...'_ she thought, with no body to mourn over, and she covered her mouth, for there were no tears left. 

Her emotion wasn't lost on her stoic brother. All he could manage was to take her hand as gently as possible and pity her. "At least you have something left. Look at the rest. We won't know the true death toll for weeks," he said, as she leaned against the stone wall of the estate. Ash clung to her cloak when she gathered the will to move. 

"Was your manservant here yesterday?" Carver asked, unlocking the great wooden door and entering the pitch-dark vestibule. 

"No. Bodhan left for Orlais weeks ago with his son," Marian answered. When Carver removed his silver helm, she saw that his ebony-black hair was a bit longer than before. He'd kept his face clean-shaven. She thought he looked younger that way, more like their years in Lowtown, though his templar training had shaped him into an imposing man. She hugged her elbows in her samite cloak for comfort, feeling where she'd been bruised in the battle.

Inside the estate, no torches were lit, and the main fireplace was cold. Broken glass littered the tiled floor from the skylight above. It was if no one had been here in years. Glass cracked under her fine lambskin boots as she walked. She approached the hearth, unsheathing her hands from emerald silk gloves, and put her fingers above a log. " _Ignis_ ," she whispered, willing a flame out of mana, creating a small fire beneath her palm. She felt a pang of guilt as she withdrew her hand, no different from the guilt she felt for most of her life when it came to wielding magic. 

_'She could set this house aflame just as easily, if she wished,'_ Carver reminded himself. He watched her turn to him - sad doe eyes and windswept hair in a long braid - the sight gave him an ache he'd nearly forgotten, gawking like a fool. It was an effect a sister shouldn't have on a brother. "I should get some rest while I can. One of your guest beds is as good as any," Carver said, promptly turning away, and placing his helm and gauntlets on a close table. A stay was only ever temporary with him. He always seemed eager to leave, just as soon as he walked in her door. 

"Would you stay with me awhile?" Marian blurted out without warning, stopping him in his tracks. 

"Are you sure that's wise?" he responded without turning to her.

 _'When have you ever been wise, dear brother?'_ she thought, almost playfully, before the levity died. "It's just us now," she said mournfully, as he turned to meet her gaze in the dim light. "What harm can come of that?"

His brow softened and he gave a meager smile. "Quite a lot, if I recall," he answered, reminiscing of the spats, rivalry, and contentiousness of their younger years. "You know, there was a time when I thought I was jealous of you - of your abilities that you shared with Bethany and Father, but now..." he said, trailing off as he slowly began to approach her. "... I wouldn't wish it on anyone," he continued, alluding below to her hands that could heal and do great harm, gazing up her Formari-adorned figure, and back to her deep green eyes. She looked every inch a Lady of noble Amell lineage, except for the trappings of a spellcaster. "I know it was terrible for you, fighting against your people. For what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to do it, sister. Templars train for years to suppress our sympathy and focus on duty. This burden should never have fallen to you," he said, with unguarded compassion, for once. 

Indeed, it shouldn't have fallen to her. Marian never asked for it. The entire incident was traumatic and would be felt for years to come, and her heart was torn. She was not Anders. Her loyalties were not only divided, but imbalanced, and she was forced to choose between her kind and her blood. "The Circle wasn't my family, Carver," she admitted, and blotted a tear from each eye. "I chose my family."

He reached out to cup her hands in his, grateful. "If you'd stood with the First Enchanter, I could not have turned my blade against you, Maker save us," he confessed, shaking his head. "I couldn't, and I couldn't let the Knight-Commander kill you, not even on my vows to Andraste."

"Then we would both be at the Maker's side now," she smiled sadly, giving his callused fingers a squeeze. "I hadn't been sure about you, once. You wounded me when you first left, instead of staying... for Mother's sake," she said, thinking of the long-buried past.

"For _you_ , you mean," he corrected, sternly.

She looked back up at him. "Was I so terrible to you?" 

" _No._ I'll own the blame for a lot of that..." he trailed off, letting go of her hands. Toward the fire he walked, explaining. "I didn't want to be known as your little brother forever. I had to make my own way, for once, and you're not completely wrong. It was to spite you, at the time. I won't pretend things would've gone perfectly on your expedition if I'd been there, but it hurt to be cut out of it, no matter your reasons. So, I jumped into the next most dangerous thing you'd disapprove of. Not that they made me fight abominations right away, but being a recruit made everything easier. I forgot all about Mother, and you. Then, inevitably, we'd meet again, and get to talking, fighting... No, more like I'd _start_ a fight and you'd finish it," he acquiesced, "and I'd begin to remember why it was better we stayed apart." He closed his azure eyes somberly, just as they were the night of his first vigil. 

Marian's breath escaped her, and her heart fluttered. She broke out in a warm sweat, blushing, declining to breathe for a long moment. She considered feigning ignorance about what Carver meant, or denying the past altogether. Their feelings had been danced around, dreamed of, and generally avoided. They never discussed them before. It was a torment for Marian, and for Carver as well, it seemed. 

He cast a huge shadow behind him, crimson and menacing as the fire grew. The knight was one-half of what remained of the broken Hawke family, and still, after all these years, he remained the one thing she couldn't let go of. "What if you no longer had to stay away?" she asked, untying her heavy cloak, letting it fall to the ground. "I miss you. I miss you being near. One touch of your hand and my skin sings. One look from your eyes and I'm safe again. I don't know if the Maker gave me these feelings, or if I'm destined for the Void because of them," she whispered frantically, approaching from behind. "Mother's gone. Meredith's gone. There's no one left to keep us apart. No one left but us," she whispered, clutching his hand again.

"You don't know what that means, Marian. If anyone were to discover the Champion and her templar brother, it would destroy everything we've bled for," he said, with a veneer of strength. "I'm a madman. I'd risk everything for my sister, but you're not just my sister..." he rambled, becoming increasingly unhinged. "I thought I could let you go. I hoped I could for a while, for your sake. Maker, I was so wrong." His ranting flirted with obsession for her. 

"I don't want you to let me go." Her voice was laced with longing as she sweetly squeezed his thick fingers inside hers. "It will be alright, as long as we have each other," she gently assured him, whispering toward his ear, weakening what little resolve remained. 

The knight turned to her, taking in how the firelight danced upon her skin. For many years, he waited, and many years wasted. She beckoned him closer, grasping his neck guard and running her hands through his smooth black hair, her touch easing away his pain. No one else touched him like that. No one could. He loved her still, just as he began to in the hovel they shared in Lowtown - the only girl he could love and ever would love. He caressed her face - more radiant than ever - her skin like the softest of petals. 

"That's all I ever wanted..." he whispered, daring to nuzzle her face with his. 

Their lips met as gently as the fluttering of a butterfly's wings. Each touch was electric, soothing every hurt. Again, and again, their lips wed, and after a hundred more such kisses, their bodies melded in the bedchamber, two broken halves made whole. It was something she never brought herself to do with Sebastian, and yet, she felt no hesitation with Carver. This felt **right** , and **good**. "You're not a dream," Marian whispered frantically with him inside her. She breathed him in with sunlight beginning to stream through the shattered windows far above. 

Sometime after it was over, she lay resting her head over his beating heart, with one of his muscular arms wrapped snugly around her, and the other holding her close. Her bare breasts felt like jelly against his chest. He fit so perfectly with Marian. There was no shame. This was how bedroom bliss was supposed to feel. 

"What happens next?" she asked dreamily.

He nuzzled her dark hair, taking in her scent, and exhaled. "Cullen might choose someone as the new Knight-Captain. It could be me," he speculated. "The people of Kirkwall will look to the templars and city guard for protection, and the influential will rally behind some noble as their Viscount, some naming themselves... but who better to lead than you?" 

"Me? Why would they ever choose a mage after last night?" she asked in disbelief.

"Because she earned the trust of the templars and defended the city once again from heretical threats, first the Qunari and now, radical apostates. She's proven her loyalty. And when they learn that among the hundreds of murdered was the Prince she was supposed to marry, the people will understand why and when she chose to fight," he thought aloud. "This new Viscount will need the support of the templars to secure peace in Kirkwall; Someone strong and wise enough to command, and someone as gentle as Elthina to inspire devotion. Someone worthy of dealing directly with the Divine when her forces surely come."

"Far too much responsibility, Carver. I'd rather run away," she said, mortified, hiding her face against him. 

"After all you did to gather influence in this city?" he asked, kissing her forehead. "You set yourself up for leadership, like it or not."

"Will I be locked in a cage when this is done? Use me and lose me, is that it?" she asked, meeting his blue gaze. The possibility was real. Even though she fought on behalf of the templars, the Chantry elite might someday decide she, too, belonged inside the Circle, as anyone with magic supposedly did. There was no guarantee. 

"You will be in the best position to argue equal freedoms for mages because you've lived it. Even enchanters in the west haven't lived as freely as you. **Have faith.** You'll need it. We'll be scrutinized for what happened last night. Some will say we acted too harshly. Others will say we didn't act harshly enough. More will think they could've handled everything better before Elthina was murdered. They won't all be satisfied. Be ready for that."

"And what about us?" she asked, resting her chin on him as she drew patterns over his heart. "I know marrying me is obviously out of the question, and some nobleman may yet ask for my hand someday, but... I don't want anyone else. I can't be with anyone else." Damn her, but it was the truth. "If I'd married Sebastian, I would've wept at the altar and all throughout the honeymoon, but not from happiness. He was a good man, in all respects. He was everything Mother wished for me, and I still couldn't love him... not like _I love you_."

Carver fought a teardrop and seemingly changed the subject. "I hated the story Father used to tell - Alindra and her soldier love. Not because it was a weepy tale, but because they couldn't be together in life." He met her eyes again, safe. "We can't count on the Maker to lift us into the heavens so we can finally be together. I only have one life to live. I give it to you," he said, finding her lips once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote Carver as more of a mature grownup, and more knightly. I didn't want to write him as the Act 1 version. I wrote him as a man who has, for years, been in love with someone he can't have.
> 
> I'm going to write a few more short fics. I may change small details to keep continuity. Thanks for reading!


End file.
